


The Education of Frank Burns

by pipisafoat



Series: Sex Lessons by Hawkeye Pierce [2]
Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, F/M, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 23:39:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5560283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipisafoat/pseuds/pipisafoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank scoffs as loudly as he can, but Hawkeye's moan drowns him out easily. "There's no need for you to be so loud. Especially in the middle of the day!"</p><p>"We could be loud at night if you'd prefer," Hawkeye gasps between Trapper's thrusts into him, head hanging low between his shoulders.</p><p>"Degenerates!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Education of Frank Burns

"What is all that racket about!?" Frank demanded, throwing down the letter he was trying to pretend to read and swinging his legs over the side of his bunk. It was a rare afternoon with no more casualties and Henry taking a shift in post-op, so all three of the surgeons were present in the Swamp. Frank would, of course, have preferred to spend the time in Margaret's tent, with its actual mattress and comfortable sheets and willing woman, but she was also scheduled in post-op. He had learned the hard way to adhere to her rule of "nobody in my tent when I'm not in there."

Trapper turned his head to face Frank, never ceasing in his movements. "It's called sex, Frank. I know it looks a little different with a man under me than a woman, but you've had your wife and Maragaret both, so I kind of thought you'd recognize sex when you saw - or heard - it right in front of you."

Frank scoffs as loudly as he can, but Hawkeye's moan drowns him out easily. "There's no need for you to be so loud. Especially in the middle of the day!"

"We could be loud at night if you'd prefer," Hawkeye gasps between Trapper's thrusts into him, head hanging low between his shoulders.

"Degenerates!" Frank briefly considers leaving or returning his attention to the letter, but that would be admitting defeat. "It's not like I've never been anally penetrated before. I've had my fair share of prostate exams, and there's nothing about it worthy of those noises."

Trapper actually laughs at this, damn the man. "That's like comparing the un-sexiness of stitching up a chest wound to the absolute sexiness of enjoying a nice chest in bed." He runs a hand over his bed partner's chest, but Frank thinks of Margaret's breasts instead. Okay. Big difference in sexiness. He's never hard during surgery, even if it is on a woman, but touching Margaret....

His lovely heterosexual daydream is broken by another loud moan from Hawkeye. As if the moan itself weren't enough, the man starts talking. "Oh God, Trap, please, fuck, stop teasing, fuck me!"

"Patience," Trapper replies, and that's when Frank notices the other man hasn't stopped looking at him yet. The gaze has absolutely no sexual quality to it, which is reassuring despite the lust painted over the rest of Trapper's face. "We have to let Frank figure this out."

Hawkeye moans again, this time in frustration, and reaches back to grasp Trapper's thigh and pull him closer. Trapper retaliates by pulling out, and Frank looks away from the erection with distaste. "I refuse to believe that being a sexual deviant gives a man the ability to feel pleasure in the anus."

"Don't forget the prostate," Trapper reminds him, waving a hand to get Frank's attention on it and suddenly inserting three fingers into Hawkeye's ... well. Into Hawkeye. "There is pleasure to be found from penetration alone, but it's the prostate that makes Hawk make those noises. Listen when I brush just beside it."

Frank is watching, too, so he can't help but see the way Hawkeye squirms to the side, almost like he's trying to get those fingers on his prostate. The sound is a gasp, the kind of gasp he gets from Margaret when she's turned on but he isn't hitting her g-spot. Trapper's fingers pull back, and as they thrust forward, Frank notices the way Hawkeye rocks back onto them, just like Margaret does for him. After several more of the exact same stroke, Hawkeye reaches for his cock, only to have his hand slapped away by Trapper. "Not now, Hawk. Frank's watching." The man moans again, pulls his hand away, and rearranges slightly. He's on his knees at the edge of the bed, head on folded arms, no way to get friction on his cock.

"I get the point, McIntyre," Frank says, and he starts to turn away, but Trapper interrupts again.

"When I stimulate it directly--" The rest of his sentence is cut off by the loudest noise yet, somewhere between a moan and a wail, and Hawkeye's hips gyrate against Trapper's hand. Again, Frank can't help but compare it to his sex with Margaret. She's not this loud, of course, because they both understand that there are proprieties to be observed, but it's still very similar to her reaction when he rubs over her g-spot.

"There is no way a normal man could enjoy that, even if those sensations and moans are real."

"Real," Hawkeye gasps between moans. "Very real. Trapper, fuck--"

Trapper's hand stops moving entirely, prompting an anxious moan and writhe that he stops with a well-placed spank. "Margaret has hands, doesn't she?"

Frank rolls his eyes. "Of course she does."

"And her touching you isn't homosexual."

"Of course it isn't. She's a woman, if you remember what those are."

Trapper continues talking with no sign of the snub in his voice, and that's when Frank realizes he's still staring at Hawkeye's ass with his eyes making occasional side trips to see that Hawkeye is, in fact, hard. Very hard, despite not having any stimulation at all currently and none on his cock for the entire time they'd been having sex, as far as Frank could tell. (He most definitely hadn't been watching, but when your only two tent mates are stripping each other directly in front of you, it's kind of difficult not to notice without physically turning away or leaving, and Frank Burns will not give these two degenerates the satisfaction of driving him out of his own tent, not so long as he outranks them both.)

"Excuse me?" he asks, putting a hint of incredulity into his voice to pretend that he had the slightest clue what words Trapper had just been saying. He forces his gaze to meet the other man's eyes, where a hint of satisfied smugness rests.

"If her touching you is heterosexual, she could play with your ass just like I'm doing to Hawkeye, and it wouldn't be gay for you in the slightest. In fact, if she'd like to learn how by watching us-"

Hawkeye moans again at this, and Frank refuses to look down, but he can see the flex in Trapper's shoulder that means the thrusting has resumed.

"I can teach her how to make you come harder than you ever have before, all without anybody touching your cock."

Frank's cock chooses that moment to twitch with interest, and (discretion being the better part of valor) he flees the tent before they can corrupt him any further.

* * *

"Do you think I have a nice, um, rear end?" Frank asks one day, naked and sweaty and sated in Margaret's bed. He's disappointed when his question makes her lift her head from his chest to stare down at him.

"Why do you ask?"

He shrugs. "I was just thinking that you talk about my hands and my mouth and my penis, you know, when you're aroused, but you never talk about the rest of my body. You don't really touch me until after, either, unless it's a hug. And even after, it's really only my chest. So I was just wondering if you liked the way my body looks."

She settles back into him, chest in its usual place, hand resting on his chest, sweeping lightly down over his stomach and back up. "I like your body," she answers slowly, "but I've never really considered your rear in particular to have an opinion on it. Did you want me to touch you more before we make love? I can do that, if it'll make you happy."

"Only if you want to," he answers sincerely, but he can't help thinking of how things are between Trapper and Hawkeye, always touching even when it isn't about sex, telling each other what they find attractive. Trapper seems like he can wax poetic about Hawkeye's ass for days on end, and maybe Frank's own ass isn't as nice, but he wonders if it might be. "And maybe, if you happen to notice my rear, or if there's some other part of me that just stands out as being attractive, I mean, I don't want it to sound like I'm begging for compliments."

"But you do tell me quite often how attractive I am," she replies. "I should have thought of that before, Frank. Everyone wants to hear compliments like that from their lover. I'll be more considerate in the future."

He hesitates, then bites the bullet. "And you can touch me, if you want to, any place that you want to. But you don't have to. Okay?"

She leans up and kisses him. "Okay. And you can ask me to touch you somewhere in particular if there's somewhere sensitive I'm missing, okay?"

He smiles, not sure if he's sensitive in his ass or if he'd ever actually ask her to touch him there, but there is this spot on his neck....

* * *

He's not going to open his eyes. It's bad enough that they've woken him up, but he is not going to open his eyes. He pulls his pillow over his face to try muffle the sounds, but it doesn't help. "I don't know what time it is, but one of you is supposed to be in with Peterson."

"I just got back," Hawkeye says, still gasping with pleasure in between breaths, "and Trapper's in there now."

"Then why all the noise." He's too tired to muster up even a questioning tone after the 32-hour day of surgery they'd finished.

"Can't sleep. Need to get off."

Frank considers this for a moment. He knows that feeling. He wishes he hadn't been so tired after surgery, wasn't still so tired, because he can feel the vague need for release under his skin, the kind that says it's been too long since he last had an orgasm, whether he's actually aroused or not. Still, he always manages to go about it quietly. They all do. "But why are you loud."

"I actually am trying to be quiet, but you know how I feel about my ass," Hawkeye groans back.

Frank is suddenly completely awake. Trapper is in post-op with their fragile chest case. Hawkeye is getting off alone. With his own ass. Using what? Before he can think about it, Frank sits up, turns on his light, and points it at Hawkeye. The taller man is on his back in bed, twisted somewhat awkwardly, two fingers inside himself with the other hand pulling steadily at his cock. Even as Frank watches, Hawkeye looks up at him - no, he can't see Frank from behind the light surely, but he knows he's there either way - and lets out a loud moan.

"You gonna watch me, Frank?" The fingers pick up speed, the back arches, and Hawkeye's voice gets rougher and more desperate-sounding. "Gonna see how I get myself off? Learn how to do it for yourself? Masturbation isn't homosexual, either."

Frank doesn't make a sound, but he doesn't move the light or lie back down in his bed. Hawkeye's right. He is going to learn how to do it, because he's going to try it on himself. There is no medical reason for a normal man's prostate to give off any different sensations than a pervert's, and masturbation is definitely not a homosexual act. He knows by now that part of Hawkeye's current pleasure lies in being watched, but the little gasps from before, the sounds he makes when Trapper's the one penetrating him, they all point to the prostate being an excellent erogenous zone. Frank Burns is not the the kind of man to let an unexplored erogenous zone go to waste. So he sits there, pointing the light at Hawkeye's ass, watching until the man comes with a long groan.

He turns off the light before the fingers pull out, settles back onto his sad Army excuse for a bed, and thinks about the supplies he needs, the privacy he'll have to ensure, until he falls back to sleep to the familiar sounds of Hawkeye's even breathing.


End file.
